Spiritus Mundi
by The X-Pig
Summary: Sometimes, you can push someone too far. Postep for Orison. Rated for langauge, themes and character death


Author's Notes: I really needed to vent this. I'm sorry in advance. 

Dedication: To everyone who agreed, or disagreed with me about this ep.  
You folks are great. Also, to my new beta, sorry this one is so rough  
for your first time out.

* * *

She couldn't talk to him. He didn't trust her anymore and she knew it.  
Sure, he still confided in her, still showed her a great deal of  
respect and love, but something had changed. He looked at her differently  
now. She had only done what she knew she had to. She had given up the  
notion that God, or the Devil, had anything to do with her actions. She  
had acted alone, and had her vengeance. But what had it cost her? And  
could she ever get it back? 

Based on his report, the review board cleared her of any wrongdoing.  
To protect her from the results of her decision, he had lied for her.  
Then he had stopped calling her in the middle of the night, the  
calls that were her connection to a real life. She missed his low voice  
rambling about nothing. She missed being able to nag him about calling her.

Then this case had come along, and they had been called in to assist  
with the profile. The plane ride out was passed in silence, neither of  
them willing to address the tension between him. Both were afraid  
of what the future held. Before Pfaster had escaped they were well on their  
way to becoming lovers. And then she had betrayed Mulder, nearly killing  
him. Now their relationship was up in the air and there were no safety lines to  
protect them.

The case was frustrating. They had no leads, nothing to go on.  
The man had murdered five teenage girls in the last month, always in  
the same way. After picking them up off the street, he brutally beat them.  
He then slit their throats, leaving them to bleed to death in an alley.  
All of the girls were runaways, with no one readily available to identify  
their bodies.

The profile was easy, nothing that required any great leap of logic.  
That was good because he couldn't focus on anything  
for long without remembering the night he almost died at the hands  
of his partner, the woman that he trusted with his life. Well, at least  
until that night. When he had entered her apartment, gun drawn, he was  
not surprised to find Pfaster there. He had known that she was in  
trouble. He had Pfaster under control, in custody, when he saw her  
come through the doorway, gun in hand. He could see the intent in her  
eyes, knew what she wanted to do. He yelled to her, asking not to take  
the shot. But she ignored him. She walked up to Pfaster, looked him  
straight in the eyes, and shot him; twice, at point blank range. He  
was stunned, but only until the light behind his head exploded in a  
shower of light and glass. At that instant he realized that she could  
have killed him, very nearly had, and she wouldn't have cared.

Sure, he knew that she would have felt remorse and guilt. But she  
couldn't have cared. If she cared she never would have done it, never  
would have put his life in danger. The only thing between him and  
those bullets had been soft tissue, nothing that would have stopped  
them, or even slowed their motion. She had shot Pfaster, she had also  
shot at him, not consciously, but unconsciously. Why did she think she  
needed to kill him? What had he done?

He had tried to hide his doubt, his distrust, but he knew it wasn't  
working. He could tell when he looked at her, caught her looking at  
him, that she knew he didn't trust her anymore. He couldn't talk to her  
the way he used to, calling her in the middle of the night to hear her  
voice, her concern, and yes, even her nagging. He knew she enjoyed  
those late-night phone calls as much as he did, and he found them  
much more satisfying than the 900 numbers that he had called before  
he fell in love with her. And now this breach, this canyon, was  
opening between them. He didn't know how to broach the subject,  
how to mend the rift. He didn't know what to do.

They finally got a break in the case, a description of the suspect  
led them to a name and an address. The address was in a seedier part  
of town, near where the bodies had been dumped. Mulder was insistent  
that he make contact with the suspect alone. He wanted to earn the suspect's  
trust, maybe get a confusion, before arresting him. Scully was equally  
insistent that he shouldn't go in alone. They argued heatedly about it, but she  
eventually caved, agreeing to wait for him outside. She wanted to be nearby  
should there be any trouble. But somehow, the suspect knew they were  
coming, knew who they were. While Mulder made contact with the suspect,  
she received a call on her cellphone. An anonymous voice told her it was a  
set up.Their old enemy, Cancerman, had resurfaced and had tipped off the  
suspect. She was told the killer was an employee of Cancerman, a valued  
employee and Cancerman had every intention of dealing with him himself.

She jumped out of the car, but she was too late. She heard a gunshot,  
followed closely by another. She charged through the door and stopped,  
horrified. She saw her partner laying on the floor in a rapidly expanding  
pool of blood, his eyes glazed, his breathing quick and shallow. She  
then saw the suspect laying dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to  
the temple.

She rushed to her partner's side, hoping that she wasn't too late  
to save him. She dialed 911 while she assessed his condition. She  
didn't realize she had been screaming into the phone until the  
operator yelled back at her, breaking her panicked state. The phone slipped  
through her numbed fingers and she dropped to her knees, trying to rouse  
her bleeding partner. His eyes cleared and his stare bored into her. He was  
struggling for breath, unable to speak above the faintest of whispers. She  
leaned over him, hoping to hear what he was saying.

"Scully, when Pfaster..." Blood bubbled between his lips and he fought to  
speak, "Why did you want me dead, too?"

She pulled back, unable to comprehend what he meant. Her eyes  
darted back to her partner just as he took a final shallow, rattling breath.  
She listened, hoping to hear another, but none came. She leaned over him,  
placing her head on his bloody chest, listening for the sound of his  
heart. She heard only silence. As she began performing CPR his last words  
echoed through her head and the tears began to fall.

The EMTs arrived and pulled her off of her partner. In shock and covered  
in Mulder's blood, she was placed in a separate ambulance and taken to  
the hospital. After being released by the doctors, she went to see his  
body. She stood in front of the gurney, but couldn't bring herself to  
look at him. She just stood there, the tears running down her cheeks,  
and sobbed for all that she had done to him, and all that she hadn't  
said to him.

After officially identifying his body and collecting his personal effects,  
she returned to the hotel. She packed her things and checked out of her  
room. She spent her last night before returning to DC in his room, laying  
in the bed that he had occupied for the last week, the bed that still smelled  
like him. She did not sleep. When the sun finally rose she slowly packed his  
things and left for the airport.

Sitting in the basement office that was now hers alone, she received a  
phone call. The same anonymous voice told her that Cancerman was in  
Skinner's office, waiting to ask how her partner had been killed. She  
hung up and stood. Before she left the office she checked her weapon,  
ensuring that it was loaded. She took one last look around the office,  
wanting to remember it and the time they had spent there together.  
She wiped the single tear off of her cheek as she locked the door  
behind her.

She rode the elevator to the fourth floor alone. She walked down the  
hall to Skinner's office and nodded to Kim as she opened the door. Kim  
attempted to stop her, knowing who was in the office with the AD.  
Scully never hesitated, she pushed past Kim and opened the door.  
Her sudden appearance in the office startled both Skinner and Cancerman.  
She glanced quickly over at Skinner and noted not a look of surprise, but  
one of concern. Both stood and Cancerman stepped forward. He wanted  
to offer his condolences but stopped. The look in her eyes froze him  
to the core.

She unholstered her gun as she walked toward Cancerman. She was  
deliberate, aiming carefully in order to avoid placing anyone else in danger.  
She then fired three shots into Cancerman's chest, killing him instantly.  
As he fell to the floor, she spoke the last words she would ever speak in  
the Hoover Building.

"I'm sorry Mulder."

* * *

Fin 

First published - 1/16/00


End file.
